There is nothing for me here.
Just the constant reminder.
I'm alone in a house of strangers.
You don't know me.
I don't want to call this a home.
I just want to be on my way to being alone.
But I can't leave you.
I'm never comfortable with the yelling or constant worry of what I will see.
I just wish you knew for a second what it's like here for me.
But you won't take me seriously.
Making jokes about it doesn't make it better for me.

I can't hold a candle to most men. I'm trying to keep burn free but this hurts me.
I can't keep composure when there's nothing keeping me sane. The same sad face you make just makes me crazy.
Living here day by day seems
So
Arbitrary.